


Me and You and a Crup Named Fred

by suitesamba



Series: Severus Sighs Anti-Valentine's Day Fest 2013 [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-22
Updated: 2013-02-22
Packaged: 2017-12-03 05:36:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suitesamba/pseuds/suitesamba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b>  Severus embarks on a courtship with George Weasley in order to claim his magical inheritance. George makes a few stipulations, including a visit to the Burrow to petition for his hand and a proposal on Valentine’s Day. Severus hopes it’s all worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Me and You and a Crup Named Fred

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2013 Anti-Valentine's Day Fest on the Severus Sighs Community on IJ to Prompt 7: Severus hates pets, small children, and nosy relatives. Too bad he'd got to navigate all of them before he can claim his magical inheritance after the war. There's also that pesky proposal he has to make on St. Valentine's Day that's ruining his life right now.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** This is a work of fiction. The characters and their worlds belong to their original writers and no copyright infringement or offense is intended. No money was made from this story.
> 
> Beta'd by Roozetter & Abrae

Severus Snape had settled on George Weasley.

The will stipulated that his spouse must come from a pure-blood family of unquestionable standing in the magical community. 

Unfortunately, that stipulation eliminated nearly every Slytherin family of his acquaintance. 

The will also stated that his spouse be of the appropriate sexual orientation – no sham marriages in name only would satisfy the magical terms. Both would have to go into the relationship with the clear intent to be partners in every sense of the word. 

The remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix, such as they were, had been informed of the sudden appearance of Eileen Prince Snape’s will, which would grant to her son Severus, after the defeat of Voldemort, the entirety of the Prince Estate – its properties, assets, and magical artifacts – providing he met its terms precisely. If he did not or could not meet them, the estate would pass to his fourth-cousin, Hector Duress.

Which would not have been so bad, except that Hector Duress had recently married Deloris Umbridge.

The will had appeared in the “In” Box of Pluveria Simpson of the Department of Magical Inheritances at the Ministry precisely eighteen months to the day after the death of Voldemort. It had been duly processed, reviewed, stamped and approved, then read to him by a Ministry officer with the required witness present. Minerva had raised her eyebrows more than once during the reading, and at one point he was sure she was about to snicker.

It was her idea that they confer with the remnants of the Order, as it was clear that Severus would indeed need to fulfill the terms to keep the Prince Estate out of “that bloody bint’s” hands. She also muttered something about using Umbridge’s tea towels for a litter box.

Severus’ first choice of spouse, of course, had been Kingsley. He hadn’t actually voiced this thought, but he was the only man of more or less Severus’ age in the group who was unmarried and remotely likable. Minerva closed the door on that possibility with her first statement.

“Severus needs a spouse. The will stipulates he must marry a pure-blooded witch or wizard from an upstanding family, and that the potential spouse be of a compatible age – within twenty years either side of Severus. And as Severus prefers men, he needs a male who also prefers men. Of course, that leaves out Kingsley…”

Was that relief on Kingsley’s face?

“Aberforth, how old…?”

“More than twice his age, I’m afraid.”

Severus didn’t think he looked too put out. No matter. He hated goats.

“Where is Mundungus?”

“Still in prison,” Arthur said. “But he should be out in another month. If we could delay…?”

Minerva shook her head. “Hagrid?”

Severus paled. “Half-blood,” he said quickly. Minerva sighed.

“Neville?” 

“Straight,” replied Neville, a bit too quickly. He shrugged apologetically.

Minerva was beginning to look worried. She glanced around the table again.

“Arthur, I’m afraid that we may have to turn to one of your sons.”

Ron paled.

“I’m already married to Hermione,” he blurted out.

“Ron!” Hermione hissed. “That was our _secret_!”

“You’re not even gay, Ron!” Harry groaned and shook his head. “He couldn’t have picked you.”

“Well, you’re bi.” Ron brightened. “You could marry him!”

“He’s not a pure blood!” hissed Snape, nevertheless looking at Harry Potter with interest as beside him, Ginny Weasley turned four shades of red.

“And that was a secret too, you wanker!” Harry looked decidedly cross.

“Oh. Yeah. Right.” Ron looked chagrinned. Across the table, Bill Weasley held his mother back as she threatened to crawl across the table and let her son know how much she appreciated finding out his marital status during an Order meeting.

“Quiet!” Minerva said. “Bill is married and is not a contender. Charlie, Percy, George. Are any of you willing to give this a go?”

They all looked at George.

George, for his part, was leaning back in his chair, balancing it on the two back legs. He seemed unperturbed. 

“I could do it,” he said when it became clear they were waiting for his response. “But he’ll have to court me.”

“Court you?”

George let his chair down and directed his response to Snape. He was not smiling. “Court me. And propose to me – in public – on Valentine’s Day.”

“That – that is not a requirement of the will,” protested Snape.

“No, it’s not,” George said. “But it’s my requirement. And I expect Mum will want to have the wedding at the Burrow, won’t you Mum? To make up for Ronnie-kins and Hermione eloping _last_ Valentine’s Day?”

“Hey! How did you know?” Ron was on his feet now and Harry and Hermione were trying to pull him back down.

“You knew and didn’t tell me? Your own _mother_?” Molly wailed.

“PLEASE!” Everyone sat back down as Severus pounded his fist on the table. “I would like to speak with Mr. Weasley – George – in private.”

The room emptied quickly. George was left sitting across the table from Severus, looking at him with obvious interest. Severus got right down to business.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-one. You?” 

“Thirty-nine. Why would you agree to this?”

George folded his hands behind his head and studied Snape shrewdly. It made Severus vaguely uncomfortable.

“I’ve always liked you, Severus. I can call you Severus now, can’t I?”

Severus nodded sharply. He watched George with narrowed, suspicious eyes.

“You’re smart, you don’t put up with shit, and without you, we’d never have won this war. You need to get married to claim your inheritance. And I could use a partner too, especially one who just happens to be a Potions Master.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “I can hardly abandon my job as Headmaster to concoct love tonics for your enterprise, Weasley.”

“George. And I can do the brewing. I just need you to do the formulating.”

“There must be something else – another reason you would even consider this venture,” said Snape after a pause.

“Well – I’m not too fond of Deloris Umbridge,” George said. “Hate her, in fact. If I were being chased by Death Eaters and had one spell left in my body, I’d kill her before I Apparated out.” 

“That is strong hate,” Severus said.

“She’s a horrible woman.” George laughed. “Of course, she never removed one of my body parts.”

He tossed his head to the side and Severus saw the hole where his ear had once been.

“Right. About that….”

~*~

“A business proposition!” exclaimed Minerva with a laugh. “Well, I can’t say I’m surprised. He’s quite the entrepreneur, Severus.” She smiled as she toyed with a quill on her desk. “He was joking, then, about the courtship? And about the public proposal?”

Severus scowled.

“Unfortunately, no. He is still insisting that I come to his childhood home to formally petition for his hand in marriage and that we hold the wedding there as well.” 

“And the proposal?”

“He has mentioned several possible locations. The atrium of the Ministry of Magic at lunchtime.”

Minerva cringed. “Ouch.”

“Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop.”

“Oooh.” She scrunched her face up. “Painful.”

“Or here at Hogwarts – in the Great Hall during dinner.”

“The boy is cruel, Severus. Cruel but certainly devious. When will you know?”

His shoulders sagged. “At least by the day before.”

“This seems like a lot even from George Weasley,” Minerva mused. “Why humiliate you in this way if you’re to be married and life partners?”

“He believes we need to start our married lives as equal partners,” Severus sneered half-heartedly. “And we are not equal now, as I have two ears and he only has one.”

“Severus! Certainly he has forgiven you for that, considering what your action….”

“He seems to _believe_ that it will make me feel better about my actions,” interrupted Severus. “How that boy did not end up in Slytherin is beyond me.”

“I often wondered as well.” Minerva sighed. “I would have had quite a bit more sleep during their Hogwarts years if Fred and George Weasley had been sorted into a different house.”

“You do realize he’ll be living here again, do you not?” Severus asked after an interlude in which they sipped their tea in quiet thought.

Minerva’s eyebrows shot up in alarm. “Oh dear Lord,” she said. “It may be time for me to retire.”

~*~

It was a ridiculous idea to petition Molly and Arthur for George’s hand on Christmas Eve.

First of all, it was cold. Ridiculously cold. And there was snow. Piles of it. It was a convenient excuse, but didn’t hold much water since he’d be Flooing over.

Secondly, there would be children there. And pets.

“You’re not allergic to dogs, are you?” George had asked him while they were dining out in Muggle London the week before, on their first official date. 

“No,” replied Severus cautiously. “Do you have one?”

George shrugged. “I adopted a stray crup that was hanging out around the shop,” he said. “Felt sorry for it. It’s small and well-behaved enough.”

“Are you attached to it?” Severus asked. “If it cannot live at the shop, perhaps Hagrid….”

“It’s funny,” George continued, apparently not listening to Severus. “It has a mangled ear. One that hangs down fine just where it’s supposed to be, and the other all crimped up.” He smiled. “I call him Fred.”

Severus’ mouth, which had been open and about to state that they would be unable to accommodate a dog inside the castle, snapped shut.

George smiled. “Yeah. I know, not too original, but I like having a Fred around again.”

“Of course,” Severus had said.

Now, standing in front of his Floo on Christmas Eve, holding a bag full of Christmas gifts, he thought of the third reason that it was ridiculous to petition for George’s hand on Christmas Eve.

There would be absolutely no privacy. The place would be crawling with people celebrating the holiday. There would be Weasleys. And their spouses. And almost-family-members like Harry Potter. Relatives. Nosey relatives.

He shuddered.

Unfortunately, it was even worse than he imagined it would be.

The house was impossibly small for a family as large as the Weasleys. They seemed used to it, but he was accustomed to life in a drafty old castle with lots of empty space. He was accosted by Molly Weasley carrying a screaming baby as soon as he stepped out of the Floo. He assumed it was the Weasley grandchild Bill and his wife had recently produced, though it did not have ginger hair, so he could not be certain. 

“You’re welcome to keep calling me Molly, of course, Severus,” she said, shifting the baby and sticking the tip of her index finger in its mouth with an appalling disregard of good hygiene. He leaned in, struggling to hear her over the baby’s wailing. “Though you might prefer Mother Weasley. That’s what Fleur and Audrey call me.”

“Mother Weasley? Really, Molly, you’re hardly old enough to be my mother.”

“Well, I should think not, Severus,” she snapped, frowning at him. “I was hardly out of Hogwarts when you started.”

“That’s not what I meant….”

“Oh, look. Here’s George.” Molly’s demeanor suddenly changed and she waved a hand in the air at George. George was standing near the front door, arms wrapped around Harry Potter. Molly leaned in closer to Severus. “He and Harry have grown quite close since the end of the war, Severus. I hope you can accommodate their friendship in your marriage. It will mean the world to George.”

Severus wasn’t looking at Molly. He was looking at George, or Harry, or George and Harry. George was no longer hugging Harry, but standing next to him with his arm wrapped around his shoulders. Beside Harry, Ginny was glaring at her older brother and working her arm, too, around Harry.

George saw him then, and dropped his arm from around Harry and pushed through the room toward them. 

“Happy Christmas, Severus,” he said, grinning. He took the bag of gifts from Severus and handed it to Molly, then took Severus’ arm. “Why don’t we go get something to drink?”

“At the Hog’s Head?” suggested Severus in a low voice as George pulled him across the room.

“Ha.” They were in the kitchen, and George bypassed the iced bucket full of beer and poured scotch, neat, into two glasses. He handed one to Severus.

“No! Down, Fred! Down!”

A small brown dog with two tails and wiry hair had zipped into the kitchen with all the speed and agility of a Jack Russell Terrier. It leapt from floor to chair to counter in two heartbeats then jumped into George’s arms.

George sighed. “He gets excited when he sees me,” he explained.

Severus checked his drink for dog hairs. He wasn’t a fan of indoor pets. He was even less a fan of animals on furniture. Animals on counters, however…. What was to prevent this dog from jumping up to the lab tables where he prepared potions?

“The dog will need obedience school,” Severus said, shaking his head. “And if he does not earn a certificate the first time through, he will stay with Hagrid.” He glared at George, who grinned.

“No more pets unless we both agree in advance then, eh?” said George. He put the dog on the floor and picked up his glass. He clinked it against Severus.’ “Time to ask Mum and Dad if you can marry me, Severus. We’ll need to quiet everyone down. Teddy and Andromeda are here and if you think Victoire is loud, you should hear Teddy.”

Severus took a long swallow of scotch. It wasn’t how he liked to drink it, but liquid courage was better than no courage at all.

~*~

Teddy Lupin was nearly two years old. His grandmother disappeared with Fleur soon after arriving, undoubtedly locking themselves in a quiet room at the top of the house while the cooing family fawned over their progeny. Teddy, when not being carried around on Harry’s shoulders, found a safe haven standing on Severus’ right boot and clinging to his leg. No one was able to explain this behavior, and Harry was successful in prying him off from time to time to take him on another jaunt around the sitting room, but by and large the limpet-like toddler remained adhered to Severus’ leg for much of the evening.

It had taken some time to get to the formal courtship request. But finally, he had managed to sequester both Molly and Arthur in a corner with George at his side, and began to ask them for permission to court their son with the intent to marry him in March.

George, however, had frowned as he began to speak.

“Aren’t you going to use the old ritual?” he asked.

“Old ritual?” It was Arthur who responded. “What old ritual?”

Thereupon George pulled out two booklets from his robe pocket and handed one to Severus, the other to his father.

Severus stared at the booklet. “So You Want to Court Our Son?” he said, reading the title and frowning. What kind of official book would have a title like that?

“It’s got an easy-to-follow script.” George helpfully opened the book up to the third page, skipping the introduction. He then showed his father the same page. “Start here,” he said, “and just follow along.”

“You didn’t say anything about an old ritual,” Severus complained half under his breath.

“Just read it,” said George.

By now they had attracted some attention. Percy and Audrey had wandered over and Hermione was looking at them curiously.

Severus frowned but, wanting this over as quickly as possible, read the first line aloud. “Humbly I beseech thee, insert name…oh…Arthur and Molly Weasley, as before you on my knees I fall to ask your leave to court your child, inser…George.”

“George Merlin,” whispered George.

“George Merlin?” repeated Snape. “Your middle name is _Merlin_?”

“Mum and Dad had high aspirations,” said George, shrugging.

“Fine.” He looked at the book again. “To court your child, George Merlin….”

“It says ‘on your knees,’” whispered George.

“Oh for pity’s sake, you can’t be serious,” he hissed back.

Arthur was obviously reading ahead, looking for the “insert name” spots. He looked up just as Severus grudgingly dropped to his knees, George’s hand pressing down on his shoulder.

“What do you offer, would-be-suitor, in return for our leave?” Arthur spoke the words loudly and slowly. Nearly everyone was watching them now.

“I offer you my undying devotion for your son or daugh…son, my commitment to treat him or … him as a treasured friend, and this monetary offering to secure….” His voice trailed off. He looked up at George. “You didn’t say anything about a monetary offering! I didn’t go to Gringott’s before coming here!”

“Anything will do, Severus,” Arthur said quietly. “It’s purely symbolic.”

Severus reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of knuts and sickles.

“Um…don’t you at least have a Galleon?” George asked.

“No, I don’t,” Severus snapped.

“Here, you can borrow one from me.” Harry pushed his way over and pressed a gold coin into his hand.

Severus was clearly frustrated by this time. He handed the Galleon to Arthur and continued.

“…and this monetary offering to secure this courtship contract, for your son is to be off the market….” Again, his voice trailed off. He closed the book, stood up and shoved it at George. “Very funny. I suppose in time I will get used to your pranks.”

George was grinning. “What gave me away?”

“Off the market? You believe an old wizarding ritual would speak of taking one’s child _off the market_?” He grabbed Arthur’s book now and shoved that one, too, at George.

“Molly and Arthur,” he began again, “May I court George?”

There. That was simple enough.

“Do you intend to court him with the intent to marry him?” asked Arthur.

“Of course! You were at the meeting. You know what this is all about.” Severus hoped he didn’t sound as cross as he felt. 

Molly took pity on him.

“Of course you may court him, Severus. Now make it official and kiss him so we can get on to opening presents.”

Kiss him? In front of everyone? Was that really expected?

Beside him, George’s shoulders were beginning to shake. Fortunately, Severus knew that he was laughing, not sobbing.

“You’re an idiot,” Severus whispered. But he put a hand on George’s shoulder and George looked at him, grinning, as Severus kissed him on the lips and everyone applauded. And wolf whistled. Someone yelled “Get a room!” He suspected that was Ron. 

He felt a weight on his leg. Oh, sweet Merlin. Teddy the toddler had reattached himself. What? What was that, now? Something on his _other_ leg?

“Fred! Get off!”

The crup was joyfully humping his shin.

Was an inheritance that promised a house full of magical artifacts, a wizarding library, an estate in Wales and a research-level Potions laboratory _worth_ this? He would have to ponder.

~*~

One more hurdle.

The kiss in front of the entire Weasley family had been daunting, but it had led to more kissing, and groping, and fully-clothed frotting, hand jobs, blow jobs, a few lovely sessions of 69, fingering, rimming, some experimental light bondage, and some very interesting role play. In the space of six weeks Severus had learned that he and George were equal opportunity sluts. He hoped they were getting it all out of their systems now because he wasn’t getting much research done after hours what with George Flooing over most evenings after work. 

George had offered to change up his demand that Severus propose to him in front of the entire school during dinner in the Great Hall on Valentine’s Day. However, the alternate proposal involved Snape giving him a blow job in the Gryffindor common room under Harry’s invisibility cloak at eight o’clock in the evening on a Wednesday. 

So here it was, February 14th, five o’clock, and he had to be in the Great Hall for the Valentine’s feast in thirty minutes. George would be Flooing to the Three Broomsticks and taking a carriage up to school. Harry had suggested this grand entrance, apparently, and Hagrid had taken a group of first years out to help decorate the carriage.

He was so hosed.

But soon it would be over and sex would ensue. The pesky will required that the two not engage in penetrative sex until the marriage was executed.

He wondered, once again, if it was worth it.

He’d quickly learned that he and George were compatible, and he doubted he could have found someone better. George was intelligent, talented, successful, and interesting. Severus could put up with the humor. It was rather fun, really, to be the straight man. 

Fuck. He was making puns in his head now. 

The fact that George was as experimental in bed as out of it should have come as no surprise. 

Well, there was nothing for it. He wanted to marry George, estate or no estate. He’d have to get through the humiliation of the evening one way or the other.

Ah. The other. He opened a cabinet, pulled out an unopened bottle of firewhisky, and poured himself a generous shot. He then downed the shot, checked his reflection in the mirror, adjusted a slightly misaligned button, squared his shoulders and marched out the door.

The Great Hall was a riot of noise and color. Red, pink and white balloons floated in festive bunches just out of reach overhead. Sprinkles of confetti rained down randomly. The children were already on chocolate highs. He’d never heard quite so much noise. 

He noted with vague interest that the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables were pushed farther apart than usual, making a wider central aisle. He gave it no more thought as he passed up along the wall and took his seat at the center of the head table. 

His stomach hurt.

He called the students to order, said a few customary words involving love and friendship, not bothering to remove the customary sneer from his face, and opened the feast.

He toyed with his prime rib.

Prime rib? Since when was prime rib served at Hogwarts, even for a feast?

The sound of a horn – a trumpet?—startled him so much he dropped his fork.

The noise level dropped. Heads turned toward the back of the room. George Weasley, dressed in nicely form-fitting scarlet and gold robes, entered the Hall and started walking purposefully up the wide central aisle toward Severus.

Severus rolled his eyes. Trust George to make a statement with the Gryffindor robes. Well, no matter, he’d be ripping those things right off of him when they got back to his quarters.

Beside him, Minerva was hissing, “Stand up, Severus. Stand up!”

Severus stood, slowly and dramatically. He could play this game as well.

“Mr. Weasley,” he said. His voice resonated in the very quiet hall. “Welcome to Hogwarts.”

George stopped when he reached the top of the student tables.

“I’ve been told you have something to say to me,” he said. His eyes gleamed. He was loving this. Eating it up. A sudden snowstorm of confetti rained down on his head.

Severus was suddenly nervous. Very nervous. He’d never actually proposed to anyone before. Certainly not in front of hundreds of students and all of his colleagues. He looked up as he saw movement in the back of the hall.

Who…? What…? 

It looked like the entire Weasley family. And Harry Potter. And Kingsley Shacklebolt? Dedalus Diggle? Hestia Jones? Arabella Figg? Andromeda Tonks? 

“Headmaster?”

Severus’ eyes shot back to George. The crowd at the back of the hall was beginning to press forward.

“George Weasley, will you marry me?” he almost shouted.

Several girls screamed. He thought someone might have fainted as there was a large crash. Someone else started to laugh.

“Sure,” said George. He beamed up at Snape then turned to the back of the room.

“Minister?”

What? What was this?

Suddenly, Minerva was standing beside him and had hold of his arm. 

“Oh how lovely! We’re having a wedding!” gushed Sybil Trelawny.

A wedding? Now? _Here?_

Apparently so.

Percy and Ron Weasley were standing beside George now, and Harry Potter had appeared from somewhere and was on Severus’ other side, helping Minerva lead him down and around to the front of the head table where a raised dais had appeared.

“Oh, I’m going to cry!” sobbed Molly. “This is so beautiful!”

The confetti raining down had changed to rose petals.

The stunned students were abnormally quiet.

“But the bonding bracelets…they’re being engraved….”

“In my pocket,” said Harry as he tugged on Snape’s arm.

It took almost no time at all.

Kingsley officiated. They exchanged the traditional vows, signed the certificate, shared a kiss. Turned to face the Hall as they were introduced as Mr. and Mr. Snape-Weasley.

And just when he thought it was all over – the attention, the hoopla, the confetti, the applause—Arthur and Molly came forward as Kingsley’s voice boomed out.

“The parents of the groom would like to perform a special song for the newlyweds.”

What was this? Arthur and Molly were going to _sing_?

He and George sat side by side on the Slytherin bench. The students slid far out of their way.

And later, much later, after the cake, the dancing, the toasts, and the gifts…later, as he pounded into the perfect arse that was held up so invitingly in the middle of his bed …he knew that eventually the memory of this day would fade. He would forget if the cake said “George and Severus” or “Severus and George.” He would forget that he had insisted on a dance with Harry after watching Harry and George dance and had taken the opportunity to whisper dire warnings into the little vixen’s ear. He would even forget that Minerva, drunk on the delightful wedding punch, had wrapped her tartan scarf around Diddle’s neck and pulled him onto the dance floor.

But he would never forget the image of Molly and Arthur Weasley serenading them, hand in hand, gazing alternatively at them and into each other’s eyes. 

_Babe, I got you Babe…._

 

The first run-through was painful enough. 

 

The second, with the students joining in, was worse than the Cruciatus. Worth than anything Voldemort could have thrown at him. Worse than Nagini’s bite. Worse than Umbridge’s pink bow and _hem, hem_.

 

“You will be bottoming until I work that song out of my system,” Severus said as George groaned beneath him.

 

“Would an…oh..ah…Obliviate help?” George panted.

 

“Perhaps,” said Snape. “I’ll let you know…in a week or two…”

 

“Night, Babe,” said George a little while later as they collapsed in the middle of the bed.

 

“Or three…” muttered Snape.

 

George snorted and stole Severus’ pillow.

 

_The End_


End file.
